


All the shades of love

by WilwyWaylan



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Asexuality, Multi, a very good friend, and he loves them, background joly x bossuet x musichetta, bossuet is a good friend, but nothing is heavy, fluff fluff and fluff, future enjolras x grantaire, grantaire has good friends, he's a lucky dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 12:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17898107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: Grantaire has a sudden realization about himself. Luckily, his friends are there to help him... even at 3AM.





	All the shades of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kujaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kujaku/gifts).



> I started this for Les Mis Ace Week, but I only finished it now. My prompt was "R realizes he's ace".

Bossuet didn't know exactly what awoke him, just that it was something loud enough to break through the fog of sleep, but not enough, as a glance told him, to wake the others. Joly was still curled up against Musichetta's side, snoring softly, reminiscent of a little cat and twice as adorable. And Musichetta hadn't moved an inch, as beautiful in her sleep as she was when she was awake, her hair a sea of black on the white cushions. Their cat Tangerine was still at her favourite place at the top of the bed, and didn't even dignify him with a glance. Everything was as peaceful as it ever was during their usual nights, down to the plastic flowers on the windowsill ("plants in the bedroom could be your death !") and the smell of Musichetta's flowery shampoo. A peaceful night like every other. But Lucky was pacing on the comforter, and with the slight ray of moonlight sliding through the curtains, Bossuet could see that his fur was raised on his tail. He was looking at his master with something like worry in his eyes.

Bossuet was still wondering about what awoken him, or did he just kick Lucky in his sleep, when a second noise rang through the flat, the unmistakable sound of something knocking against metal. So he and Lucky didn't imagine things. There _was_ something in the flat, something that moved where it shouldn't have, and knocking against metal. And then something scrapping across the floor. Something like.... feet ?

Bossuet's stomach started to tighten painfully. There was someone in the flat. Someone had broken into their flat and was now moving in the living room. In all his years of bad luck, Bossuet had had various misfortunes in the different places he lived in : caving ceilings, broken pipes spitting water everywhere, broken furnaces by the dozen, windows held by duct tape, a bed that fell under him while he was sleeping, and a weird suite of events starting with a torn curtain and ending with a burnt front door. But never, ever, had he been faced with someone breaking into his flat, and he didn't know what to do. Calling the cops ? Of course, that was the first step. The main, most important step. But of course, Joly insisted that all cellphones be banned from the bedroom for fear of harmful waves. Maybe he could reach the land line near the front door. But it meant going past the living room, with the risk of being seen by the burglar. Who was probably armed to the teeth.

Seconds were passing by, and the weird noises could still be heard. They were intermittant now, but very, very present. Bossuet would have liked nothing more than going back to sleep and contemplate the disaster on the next morning. But with his luck, the burglar, or burglars, would certainly hope to find some more valuables in the other rooms, and would of course burst into the bedroom. Where they would find not one, but three people to take hostage or take advantage of or... No, Bossuet couldn't let them get their grubby hands on his lovers, he had to do something. And he needed to act quickly.

As quietly as possible, Bossuet slid out of bed, careful of not putting a hand on Joly who would have woken up. It was already a miracle that both of them kept sleeping. Bossuet really, really didn't want to wake up and worry them. Sure, they would be furious if he went and tried to take on a burglar or several on his own. On the other hand, it meant danger. And he didn't want them in danger. He could try and take a look, and then come back, block the door and wake them up to help him deal with them ? Yeah, that seemed like the best course of action. Sneak down the hallway, get a good look, grab a phone or three, come back, block the door, call the police, cuddle. A perfect plan. Nothing could go wrong.

Joly's cane was at its place at the end of the bed, and he grabbed it on his way out. Better have something at hand to whack an attacker with, right ? Well, knowing his luck, Bossuet would probably knock himself out, but at least, the wood in his hand gave him a little hint of confidence, and the small dinosaur skull at the end could still do some damage.

The door didn't creak when he opened it. Good, at least one thing working in his favor. He slid a prudent foot on the floor, then the other. Still no noise, at least coming from him, but he could hear some grunts coming from the living room, that could have been someone carrying something heavy. Maybe their television ? Heresy ! Not the TV they spent so many hours cuddling, snacking and laughing in front of !

He was nearing the entrance, and ready to strike, when something black and furry bolted past him and ran in the room, mewling all he knew. There was another sharp noise, like something very heavy falling on the floor, and someone swore loudly. Another voice answered in jest. And Bossuet did the same. Because he knew these voices, he knew them very well.

He stepped into the living room and turned on the light. Bahorel and Grantaire looked at him, blinking like two owls caught in a compromising situation. And compromizing it was. Grantaire was laying down on the carpet, a leg still on the couch where Bahorel had probably deposited him and was now trying to get him back on. They looked so stupid like this, Bahorel still bent over Grantaire, gripping him under his arms and trying to lift him, and Grantaire, his arms pushed up at weird angles by Bahorel's hands, his hoddie riding up so high his face was half-swallowed by his hood, that Bossuet couldn't help but laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. He doubled over, holding his aching ribs, trying to muffle the noise as not to disturb Musichetta and Joly, but that was easier said than done.

The laughter finally recided after five good minutes, and Bossuet could straigthen up at last. He wiped the small tears at the corner of his eyes, took a deep breath to fight the hiccup that was threatening to erupt. Bahorel had taken advantage of his hilarity to finally get Grantaire, who seemed to have troubles keeping all his appendages under control, on the couch, get his shoes off, and had even found a plaid to wrap him in. Grantaire looked every way the satisfied cat, and ready to doze off, but Bossuet still had a bunch of questions to ask. He sat on the arm of the couch, patted Grantaire's hair and the cat that had taken residence here.

\- Not that I want to sound petty, you know our couch is always yours to occupy as you see fit, but I can't help but wonder what you and Bahorel are doing in our flat at three in the morning, and how you did get in ?

\- The window, Bahorel answered simply.

Bossuet glanced at said window. Not only was it not very large, it was usually closed due to the emergency ladder, and a bunch of knick-knacks were strewn in front of it. Said knick-knacks had been pushed out of the way, but not one had been broken.

\- I think I may need a more complete explanation, if you don't mind.

\- I don't mind, Bahorel answered, settling in their comfortable and gigantic armchair. See, that one (he nods towards Grantaire, who grunted) had a drink or twenty in celebration of Valentine's Day. And even for a man of his endurance, that was a bit much, and he couldn't stand anymore.

\- Excuse you, I was perfectly able to stand !

\- Since he knocked two tables over, Bahorel went on without minding the interruption, I decided to bring him home. Well, your home since he told me that he was currently half-living here.

Bossuet nodded in confirmation.

\- So I dragged him here. But of course, he didn't have the keys, so we had to climb.

Bossuet glanced at the flimsly ladder before the window and its decidely steep bars.

\- You climbed here with him ?

\- And he's a heavy bastard, Bahorel answered, earning himself an indignant "hey !" from Grantaire. But he's as clingy as a koala, and he doesn't move once he's settled. So climbing wasn't difficult. Opening the window and getting inside was the hardest part, but of course, I managed !

\- I can see that. And you didn't even break any of Musichetta's figurines. That's a feat.

\- Hey, I'm not an animal.

\- And my savior, Grantaire cut in. Strong like an ox, and better dressed. Without you, I'd be lost in the streets, and would probably sleep my sorrows away under the nearest bridge. Which is, alas, not as comfortable as your couch.

Bossuet did his best to not roll his eyes. Fondly, of course. He was used to Grantaire's ramblings. Grantaire was always rambling, and it was twice worse when he was drunk. But that one had a hint of... he didn't really know, but a hint of something, hidden very deep in his voice. And there was something Bahorel said, too, a thing that could explain it.

\- Grantaire, he asked softly, is there something wrong ?

\- You know very well, my dear eagle, that there's always something wrong with me.

This remark earned him a flick on the forehead. Grantaire stuck his tongue out.

\- I know it's hard to understand for someone who's as rich as you in the domain of love, but Valentine's Day, or as someone would call it, Capitalist Artificial Celebration of Some Bonds With People, can be hard on some people.

\- Let's not forget that I've been in your shoes forseveral years before getting them, Bossuet answered.

Grantaire pointedly looked at the worn shoes near the couch.

\- Anyway, he went on, Valentine's Day could make a man feel lonely. And, sometimess, when faced with certain prospects, ideas or figures, a man can't help but try to drown his sorrows in the joys that alcohol brings. Or at least the alcohol itself.

\- It's about Enjolras, isn't it ?

Bahorel nodded.

\- It's always about Enjolras, Grantaire sighed. After all, he is the sun, and everything revolves around him. Including me, of course. I wouldn't have the gall to consider myself stronger than any body, astral or not. So yes, this story is about the Sun, and the miserable looking at him until he's blinded by the radiance...

\- Did the Sun say something ? Bossuet asked to stop another fit of rambling that could last another ten minutes.

Instead of launching in another tirade, Grantaire pulled his knees against his chest and stared at the wall. Immediatly worried, Bossuet slid from the arm to the cushions, and pulled his friend against him.

\- What's wrong, R ? he asked, as gently as he could. Come on, tell me.

\- I had a conversation with Enjolras.

Alarms started blaring in Bossuet's mind, and he exchanged a worried look with Bahorel. They were used to Enjolras being a subject of concern for Grantaire (greatest euphemism in the world, really !), and he had suspected this kind of answer. But he hadn't seen Grantaire this depressed for at least three years. He had a fleeting, angry thought for Enjolras who seemed to be able to put Grantaire in his worst moods. He quickly pushed it aside ; as long as he didn't know what happened, that wouldn't be very fair of him. Grantaire may be his best friend, but it didn't mean he couldn't be absolutly infuriating, and he perfectly knew how to push Enjolras' buttons to the worst results. So it was with a perfectly neutral voice, with just a hint of concern, that Bossuet asked :

\- Want to tell us what happened ?

\- You're going to laugh. I'm going to laugh. It's so stupid. It's the stupidest thing to ever happen in the grand history of mankind.

\- Then how about you share the laugh ?

Grantaire sighed, a long, heavy sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his lungs and bring out all his sadness.

\- You'll both laugh at me and you'll be right. But here come. I was at the Musain, minding my own business, sharing a nice beer in my company, when I realized that tonight was Capitalist Day of... you get the gist. Suddenly, I don't know what came over me. I decided that, ruined for ruined, I would try my luck. What could be the worst that would happen, really ? I already know he doesn't like me, so I didn't have much to lose.

Bossuet shuddered hard enough for Grantaire to feel it. But his friend didn't remark on it.

\- So I got up, went to his table and... I asked him. I asked him out. I told him that I wanted to date him, to invite him to a nice restaurant, to lay on the couch and watch his favourite movie, or documentary, or whatever he wanted to see. And he... he said...

Grantaire's voice faltered, and he stopped, glancing at his interlaced fingers on his knees.

\- Did he said... no ? Bossuet offered.

\- No, Grantaire answered without looking up. He said yes.

\- What ?!

The shock made Bossuet let go of the hug to spin his friend around. Grantaire didn't look up, his wild curls hiding his eyes.

\- What ? Bahorel repeated. Are you telling us...?

Grantaire nodded.

\- Is that.... Bossuet asked. Is that the joke ? Because that's an amazing...

\- That's not the joke, of course, or I would be busy celebrating, or maybe screaming my happiness at the top of the Musain, or parading in the street. Or something.

\- Then do you want to tell us ?

\- Of course. You see, he said yes. He really seemed to want to spend some time with me. And I did too. I've thought about it so much, I mean... I was bursting with joy. I wanted to do everything with him, reading with him, watching movies, eating, having fun, the whole nine yards...

\- As you already told us at least a thousand times, if I recall well.

\- A thousand and three, Bahorel added.

\- When you love, you don't count the cost. And then... and then Courfeyrac, because of course he was there, you know they are joined at the hip, I'm even surprised they don't wear each other clothes...

\- They do. Except Combeferre because he doesn't fit in theirs.

\- I don't even want to know how you know this, Grantaire answered. Anyway, Courfeyrac said... I don't recall exactly what he said, but it was something about ending the evening in a bed, or maybe touching the statue, or something... I don't really remember. A courfean remark.

\- And then ? Bossuet asked after a few seconds of silence.

\- And then I.... I had an epiphany.

Bossuet carded his fingers through Grantaire's curls, slowly, in a way he hoped was calming.

\- I realized, Grantaire finally said, slowly, I realized that... I've been talking about Enjolras, and before him, all those girls I've been with, how we... you know. And then... and then I realized.... that I'm not attracted to him.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Lucky stopped purring, staring in confusion at the human who shifted uncomfortably under him.

\- And you think we're going to believe you ? Bahorel finally blurted.

\- I knew you wouldn't, Grantaire sighed.

\- When you mean you're not attracted to him... Bossuet asked with a glare in Bahorel's direction.

\- I mean... of course, I'm aesthetically attracted to him. He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen, in person, in a painting or as a statue. He's an astre, he's celestial, he's Appolon, he's beauty made man, and given the gift of passion and conviction. He's perfect in every way, and the fire burning inside him is the pinnacle of Mother's Nature most admirable creation, bringing him to absolute perfection. I could spend hours, days, simply watching him be. Living in his shadow and adoring him from afar would be enough to make me perfectly happy. And he allows me to, now ! I should be the happiest in the world ! But.... Courfeyrac's words have casted a shadow on that happiness. A seed of doubt in my mind, and the root it birthed has dug deep. And what it unearthed...

\- What ? Bossuet prompted gently.

\- I've never been physically attracted by someone, Grantaire said with a shrug, his voice perfectly calm and leveled.

\- Never ?

\- I've dreamt of painting Enjolras, carving him in stone or building him with clay. I've dreamt of him talking to me, nicely, of having a real conversation without having the need to needle him so he would look a t me. I've dreamt of holding him at night, and listening to his breathing, of seeing him waking up in the morning, of a thousand things....

Bahorel rolled his eyes and Bossuet shot him a glare, barely refraining from telling him that he wasn't better as soon as Feuilly was concerned.

\- But I've never dreamt of taking him to bed. And once I've thought about it, not the myriad of women who threw themselves at me. I've done it, as I was supposed to, but never once, I've wanted it. Never once have I been attracted to someone. Physically.

Bossuet managed a surprised little "oh". Bahorel, who had unearthed a pack of biscuits from the reliefs of their evening tea, asked around a mouthful of crumbs :

\- OKay, but then, what happened ? What did you tell Enjolras ?

\- Nothing.

\- Nothing ? Bossuet repeated.

\- Nothing.

\- What do you mean, nothing ?

Bahorel grabbed Grantaire by the shoulders and forcefully sat him upright, causing Lucky to flee.

\- Explain yourself.

\- What do you want me to explain ? When a realisation hits you in the face like a ton of bricks and the love of your life is finally looking at you without being annoyed, and your heart is threatening to jump out of your chest, there aren't many possible reactions. Either you man up and confess the whole thing, or you run away like a coward.

\- And you ran.

\- Like the coward I am. And now he'll forever hate me and brand me with the mark of infamy.

\- Are you telling us you just sidelined Enjolras ?

Bahorel looked ready to jump on Grantaire and shake him to knock some sense into him. Or at least, knock him. Bossuet stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

\- Okay, he said, I think we need to unpack all this.

\- Tell me about it, Grantaire muttered, but he seemed to listen at least.

\- First, about your... epiphany. I get that it's really heavy, to get all of this dumped on you at once, and that you really need to think about it. Joly will be able to help with that. Joly is ace, he explained, and out about it so I'm not outing him, and the living proof that being ace is in no way an obstacle to a loving relationship. Of course, he too needed time, but there's no deadline for those kinds of things. Second, and no less important, I'm sure Enjolras will understand.

\- I left without a word. I tell you, he probably hates me by now. Which is... nothing new.

\- Dude, Bahorel chimed in, I know Enjolras. He's sometimes clumsy, and says things he doesn't always mean, but he's not an ass. If you speak to him, he'll listen, and he won't be mad about you. I bet he's not even mad right now, probably worried, especially if you ran away without a word. Which you did, right ?

Grantaire nodded, sheepishly.

\- I'll tell you the plan, Bossuet said. You spend the night on the couch, sleep the alcohol off. Tomorrow morning, Joly will have a chat with you about that, and I'm sure you'll feel better.

\- You say this because he's your boyfriend and you think everything he does is magic, Grantaire remarked, but his voice had lost all bite, and he was smiling slightly.

\- He is magic and everything he does is too, but he gives very good advice too.

\- And very good... Bahorel interjected before being cut off by Bossuet's foot landing on his.

\- He'll talk to you, if you want. And once we get you full of confidence and coffee and probably a hug or two, you'll go talking with Enjolras, and I'm sure you'll be okay.

\- That sounds like a nice plan, Grantaire mused.

\- It's perfect, and not just because it's mine. But now, it's time for you to sleep. And me too. And Bahorel...

\- ... will leave. The night is young, and I still intend to have fun.

\- Young ? It's three thirty in the morning.

\- That's what I say. Bye, Boss, bye, disaster. Tell the lovebirds I said hi.

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him with only a little thud. Bossuet went to fetch a bucket for Grantaire, in case his alcohol content was too high. When he came back, his friend was already almost asleep. He pulled his shoes off, and wrapped him in the plaid they abandonned a little earlier. Grantaire groaned in appreciation.

\- Good night, you dork, Bossuet said fondly.

\- Dork yourself.

Bossuet turned off the lights, and he was already in the hallway, when he heard Grantaire mutter :

\- You promise he won't be mad ?

\- I promise. Now go to sleep.

He himself tiptoed to the bedroom. Joly and Musichetta were still alseep, all tangled in each other's arms. Bossuet climbed on the bed, as light and silent as possible, and curled up around Joly. Things would probably work out nicely. Enjolras would accept Grantaire as he was, and Grantaire would be the happiest. FInally, he thought as sleep was overtaking him. But Joly and Musichetta were going to be sad to know that their "make R and Enjolras a couple" schemes were useless now...


End file.
